


Shur'tugal and the Interlude

by Solarisetlesetoiles



Series: Dragon Riders [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Dragons, M/M, Slow Burn, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2020-12-24 16:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21102569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solarisetlesetoiles/pseuds/Solarisetlesetoiles
Summary: A six-month interlude.Chapter one:"They sat in silence for a few moments, before Lyra piped up, “I’m done.”Thorn hummed, eyeing the half of the deer she hadn’t eaten. “Are you going to finish that?”She looked at the carcass, “I want to give it to Regulus.” Thorn highly doubted Regulus would want a half-eaten deer corpse, but decided it would be useless to try and explain that to Lyra."





	1. Month one

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm super excited to post this story. As you may have noticed, this is an interlude between Shur'tugal and the Living Boy, and the next part of the series. It's going to be less action-oriented and more character-based as I do set up for the fourth part of the series. 
> 
> I do use liberal amounts of ocs for this fic and for this series. Their purpose is to flesh out the world and the characters some different interactions. I know not everyone is a fan of ocs, so if it's not your cup tea that's completely fine.

“Thorn! Thornthorn Thorn!” Lyra squawked insistently.

“Yes?” Thorn asked, cracking open one eye to stare at her. 

“We should go hunting!” she shouted excitedly.

“Yes, alright,” Thorn shut his eye and pretended to go back to sleep.

“Now Thorn!” Lyra shrieked, jumping onto his head, “We should go now!”

Thorn yawned in response, which shook Lyra off, and made her growl indignantly.

“Don’t ignore meee,” she whined, “you promised we would go!”

“I did not promise we would go at the crack of dawn,” Thorn reminded her. Truly he didn’t mind going now, but it was so amusing to see her get all huffy and annoyed.

“But I want to go, why not now?” Lyra demanded using her forelegs to bounce on Thorn’s snout once again.

Thorn snorted, then stretched and slowly rose from the ground with another yawn, “very well.”

“Yes! Yes yes yes!” Lyra danced around his legs and crowed in excitement. She craned her head up to stare at Thorn, “I want to catch a deer.”

“Have you told Regulus we’re going?” Thorn asked.

“Yes, let’s gooo,” Lyra bounded in an antsy circle.

“One-moment hatchling,” Thorn told her as he reached out for the mind of his rider.

“Murtagh,” nothing, clearly the man was still deeply asleep. Thorn felt bad about disturbing one of the rare nights Murtagh hadn’t awakened to some sort of nightmare or vision of the future.

“Murtagh,” he tried again, and this time he felt a sleepy response.

“Hm - Thorn, wha’ time is it?” Murtagh was not nearly awake enough to have any sort of coherent thought, but Lyra’s impatient demands were growing louder.

“Lyra wants to go hunting,” Thorn explained.

“Now?” Murtagh asked.

“Now,” Thorn answered.

“Okay.” Murtagh’s conscious faded back into sleep. Thorn felt worried that perhaps Murtagh would awaken later and wonder where they had gone off to. But he remembered that Lyra had told Regulus, who would surely remind Murtagh lest he forgot. 

“Ready ready?” Lyra was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Oh yes,” her good mood was infectious. Thorn scooped her up onto his back and waited till she settled.

“All set?” he asked.

“Go go go!” Lyra chanted, flapping her wings in excitement.

Thorn spread his own wings and launched himself into the air, revelling as they caught the wind and were propelled upwards.

“Wooooo!!!” Lyra cheered, “go Fasterrr!!!”

Thorn felt laughter bubble up at her enthusiasm, “if I go any faster you’ll fall off,”

“No I won’t,” Lyra chanted, “go fasterrr,”

Thorn sighed, but then he obliged her, swinging his wings to propel himself higher into the air.

“When I’m big, I’m going to fly and catch the sun!” Lyra cried.

“And what will you do with it once you’ve accomplished that?” Thorn asked indulgently.

“I’m going to give it to Regulus, and he’s going to be so happy he forgets to be sad,” Lyra explained.

Thorn hummed, “humans are complicated creatures hatchling, they often make their own troubles, I think it would be an impossible task to make them forget to be sad.”

Lyra whined, “but I don’t like it when he’s sad, and he’s always a little sad, and it -” she switched abruptly into Regulus’ mother tongue. And though Thorn couldn’t understand the specifics, he knew she was complaining.

“I know, but that is something that he must work through over time; eventually he’ll feel better,” he consoled.

Though he couldn’t see her, Thorn felt Lyra fix a glare at the back of his head.

“You promise?” she asked, disbelief clear in her tone.

“I do.” 

Perhaps it was not right to promise what Thorn could not be sure of, but Lyra was young, only a month and a few weeks old, she did not need to worry about the sorts of hurts that could not be healed, even by time.

Lyra hummed, and she settled for the moment, contentment radiating through her. 

Thorn let the worries of the ground fall from him as he let the wind carrying him, the sun shining warmly on his back.

It would be the end of summer soon, and having lived in the wild forests for nearly a hundred years, Thorn was well used to the change of the seasons. He was looking forward to the changing of the leaves; it had been a genuine surprise when he had first seen it. Murtagh had laughed at him, and then explained that the leaves would be back in the spring, that in the meantime, once the leaves had fallen, the snow would come.

Thorn was not fond of snow, it was cold and wet, and so bland in its uniform whiteness, but Murtagh liked it well enough, and he was certain Lyra would enjoy it.

“Thorn THorn Thorn! Look look!” Lyra’s excited cries broke him from his thoughts, swinging his head around he saw the herd of deer that had caught her attention.

“Well done hatchling,” he complimented, “hang on,” he instructed. Thorn brought his wings in and angled his head downwards, letting the pull of the earth catch hold of him.

Lyra shrieked in delight as they gained speed. 

“I want to catch one!” Lyra cried, never mind she was twice as small as the deer below them.

“Wait, Lyra!” Thorn cried as she lept off his back and smashed into a deer. The rest of the herd scattered instantly. 

“I got it!” Lyra cheered, as she stood above her catch.

“That was dangerous Lyra!” Thorn cried, “you could have broken your neck!”

“I knew what I was doing!” Lyra called back, “you should go before the deer outrun you!”

Thorn growled in annoyance, loath as he was to admit it, she was somewhat right. There was no way a deer could outrun a dragon, but the longer he waited, the more of a pain in the ass it would be to chase them down.

“Stay here,” Thorn ordered as he wheeled around.

“Good luck!” Lyra called smugly.

***

“Why didn’t you just wait?” Thorn asked as he landed with his prey.

Lyra looked up from where she was already gorging herself on her own catch. She didn’t respond, just stared at him as she continued to chew.

“That was dangerous Lyra, how do you think Regulus would feel if something happened to you.”

Lyra growled, “that’s cheating.”

“Oh, is it?” Thorn asked, “and why is that?”

“Because he’d be so sad,” she seemed deeply troubled by the idea.

“Exactly,” Thorn agreed softly, “I’d be sad too.”

She poked at her deer guiltily, “well, I wasn’t trying to make you sad, I just knew I had to jump from high; otherwise I wouldn’t catch the deer.”

Thorn sighed, “well now that you know, don’t do it again.”

“Fine,” she huffed, then resumed tearing into her catch. 

Thorn turned to his own breakfast, his rumbling stomach making itself known.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before the sound of wingbeats filled the air. 

Thorn glanced up as Fírnen descended from the sky.

“Greetings,” he hummed as he landed, “I hope you are well?”

“We are, thank you,” Thorn answered, trying his best to be polite, “And how are you?”

“I am well,” Fírnen came closer, “may I join you?”  
“Of course.” Thorn shifted to the side as Fírnen settled next to him.

There was a long awkward silence, though Fírnen was barely a year younger than Thorn, their first conversation had only been two months ago.

Thorn had not yet decided how he felt about the other. 

As old as Fírnen was, he had never fought in a battle where the goal was to down the opponent by whatever means necessary, never felt the rush and the rage and anguish. But he was clearly respected by the other dragons and by the two-legged races. Thorn wasn’t sure if he felt he respected Fírnen in the same way; if he could ever. He certainly wanted to befriend the other dragon, but Fírnen was reserved, and with every passing moment, the possibility seemed to grow smaller. 

“I caught a deer!” Lyra crowed. 

“A most impressive feat,” Fírnen agreed. Lyra puffed up in pride. Then she tilted her head in thought.

“Did you catch one?” she asked, Thorn, worried Fírnen would be offended at her insinuation he could not hunt, but the other simply huffed a laugh.

“I am not hungry at this moment. I will hunt later.”

“Oh,” Lyra hummed contemplatively, “are we going to talk more about storms today?” 

“Actually, we will be talking about the history of the dragon riders today,” Fírnen answered. 

“Hmmm,” Lyra tore another chunk from her meal, “is it going to be boring?”

Fírnen gave a startled snort, as Thorn choked.

“Why do you ask that?” Fírnen asked, bemused.

“Regulus said he was bored in his history classes, but we’re going to be talking about dragons, so I wasn’t sure,” Lyra answered, unaware of the befuddlement she had caused the older dragons.

“Well,” Thorn began, “I think the experiences Regulus has had are likely different then what will happen now.”

“Yes, I can’t speak for your rider, but I think the history of the dragons and their riders is quite a fascinating one,” Fírnen added, “for instance, did you know that it was originally the dragons that chose to have riders?”

Lyra tilted her head, “no. But didn’t the dragons always have riders?”

“No,” Fírnen answered, “in fact, there are dragons in Argnor now who have no riders.”

“That sounds lonely,” Lyra commented. Silently Thorn found he agreed. He could not imagine a life without Murtagh, annoying as his rider’s choices could be at times.

“I did not know that,” Thorn confessed, “May I join you for this particular lesson?”

“We would be glad to have you,” Fírnen replied.

They sat in silence for a few moments, before Lyra piped up, “I’m done.”

Thorn hummed, eyeing the half of the deer she hadn’t eaten. “Are you going to finish that?”

She looked at the carcass, “I want to give it to Regulus.” Thorn highly doubted Regulus would want a half-eaten deer corpse, but decided it would be useless to try and explain that to Lyra. She was too young to understand that humans were particular about what they ate. 

“Then I shall help you carry it back to him,” Thorn offered.

“Yes, good, let’s go,” Lyra climbed to her feet and looked at Thorn expectantly. 

Because Thorn still felt like teasing her, he didn’t move and simply stared back.

Lyra huffed loudly, “Please. Let’s go now please.”

Thorn looked over at Fírnen, “I’m ready when you are.”

Fírnen climbed to his feet, “then we shall go.”

“Yes!” Lyra cheered.

***

They found Regulus sitting in a field with Murtagh. Thorn was not surprised in the least. The pair were curled together over a book in between them. 

Murtagh glanced up as Thorn’s shadow fell over them, contentment radiating from him. The fear that was always present in his mind was barely a whisper through their bond. 

“Having fun?” Thorn asked as he landed and walked closer. Lyra jumping down to present her catch to Regulus.

“Yeah, I’m just realizing that sword fighting is not the only thing I’m rusty at,” Murtagh answered, gesturing to the book.

Despite the self-deprecating joke, he seemed happy enough, and that pleased Thorn.

Murtagh turned to look at where Lyra was presenting her gift to Regulus. He pressed a hand over his mouth to hide his snicker at the pinched look on Regulus’ face.

“Did you catch that yourself?” he asked Lyra, amusement seeping into his voice.

Regulus gave him an unamused look.

“I did!” Lyra boasted happily. 

“That’s good; it’s nearly lunch-time,” Murtagh commented, “now we don’t have to go find something.”

“That’s right!” Lyra cheered

Murtagh pulled himself to his feet. Then he offered a hand to Regulus, pulling him up easily when he took it.

They headed back towards the cottage Arya had given them. “You seem happy,” Thorn commented to Murtagh.

“It’s nice to sleep without prophetic dreams for once,” Murtagh replied. 

Thorn was sure that part of it, but he was equally sure that spending the morning with Regulus was another. 

Now that they had settled the business with King Orik and the human King Ajihad, Murtagh had no reason to worry about his friend anymore, and so could finally enjoy Regulus’ company without worry.

“I am going to join the dragon’s class this afternoon,” Thorn commented half worried Murtagh would be upset. But he was pleasantly surprised when his rider simply nodded.

“I hope you have a good time.”

“I’m sure it’ll be exciting.”

Murtagh grinned, “I’m sure it will be.”  
***

“You aren’t coming with us?” Thorn asked when Regulus began to say his goodbyes to Lyra.

“We have…” Regulus waved his hands for a moment, “fighting!” Lyra offered helpfully, as Thorn saw an image of Sionra holding a sword. 

“Ah,” he hummed, “then I wish you good luck.”

Regulus nodded, “thank you,” he turned to Lyra, addressing her in his language. She shorted and replied, something that made him huff and shake his head. 

It was a rather amusing relationship the pair had. Murtagh thought it was rather funny how Regulus always fussed over Lyra, but Thorn was sure Lyra fussed in her own way, it just involved far more threats and violence.

“Let’s go!” Lyra cheered when she had finished her conversation with Regulus.

“After you,” Thorn said to her. 

They made their way through the trees to an open space where Fírnen and the other two dragon trainees were. 

Thorn was not sure he wished to spend time with Hurana and Vornongr, especially Vornogr, because of the feud between Sionra and Murtagh, Thorn was on bad terms with the pale orange dragon.

“You have told us you’d be gracing us with your presence,” Vornongr commented idly, “I would have made preparations.”

“No need to burden yourself, I know you feel inadequate next to my glorious self,” Thorn said as he settled on Hurana’s other side. He would not abide by a dragon half his size insulting him and getting away with it.

Vornongr growled.

“Peace friends,” Fírnen ordered, “we are all here for knowledge, there is no need for grudges.”

“Are we going to talk about battles?” Lyra asked.

“Yes, surely there must have been some great feats,” Hurana chimed in, “I am most interested to hear of those.”

“Yes, battles are a part of what we will be discussing, but there are many other interesting subjects as well,” Fírnen explained. 

“Like hunting!” Lyra piped up in excitement.

“Yes!” Hurana added. 

“Of course, but I was thinking more along the lines of the great diplomats that were among the order of the dragon riders, you see in the ancient age -”

“What’s a diplomat?” Lyra yelled, interrupting Fírnen’s sentence.

“Oh well, they are a person who speaks with others to achieve a specific goal,” Fírnen began to explain, only to be interrupted by Lyra blurting something. He stopped and sent Thorn a confused look.

“I think she’s just repeating the word, but in Regulus’ language,” Thorn offered sheepishly.

Fírnen hummed, “well as I was saying -” he then launched into a long speech about several ‘important’ dragon diplomats and scholars.

Thorn had to fight to keep his attention from wandering after an hour. He was regretting his decision to come after another hour. And he felt terrible about it, this was clearly a subject of great interest for Fírnen, but he was quite certain that both Vornongr and Hurana had stopped paying attention after the first ten minutes, and Lyra was clearly fast asleep. 

“And that concludes the accomplishments of Nolgrun. Now his significant works include -” Fírnen continued, oblivious of his audience’s disinterest.

Thorn was done; he did not care about Nolgrun in the least. Stretching out his mind, he reached for the bond he shared with Murtagh.

“Murtaghhhh,” he groaned, “if I have to hear one more word about Nolgrun I’m going to claw my own snout offfff. 

Amusement curled through their bond, “I don’t know what to tell you Thorny, you made this choice.”

“But I regret it, tell me something interesting to distract me,” Thorn whined. 

“Regulus is trying to fight Tazuz, but Tazuz won’t fight back and just keeps knocking him off his feet.”

“You’re at the training?” Thorn asked, “and Sionra hasn’t tried to stab you yet?”

“Oh no she did, but then I knocked her over, and she fell on her ass,” a sense of smug glee went through their bond at that comment, “now she’s yelling instructions at Regulus, but he doesn’t know enough of the technical terms she’s using to understand.” 

“That sounds infinitely more amusing than what’s happening here,” THorn groused.

“Oh, it is.” And Thorn was presented with Murtagh memory, wherein Regulus was trying to hit Tazuz, but the urgal kept sidestepping him until Regulus lost his footing and crashed to the ground. Tazuz only stood by and waited patiently for Regulus to stand up before the same cycle repeated itself. 

“-orn, Thorn, Thorn!” Lyra’s cries pulled Thorn back into awareness.

“Yes?” He looked down at her, and she was bouncing, “we’re talking about battles!” she shouted in delight, “you’ve fought in battles, right?” 

Thorn glanced around; he noticed that Fírnen, Vornongr, and Hurana were looking at him expectantly.

“I- yes. Though I don’t think they would be of any interest to you,” Thorn did not want to talk about the war he and Murtagh had been forced to fight for Galbatorix. 

“Why not?” 

Thorn curled his talons in, “they were not very honorable, and I would not have fought them if I had a choice.”

“Oh,” she hummed thoughtfully.

“Then we will not press you,” Fírnen acknowledged, “now the battle of -” and launched into another long story.

Thorn did not pay attention. He couldn’t fight off the awful feelings that had resurfaced with the memories.

Though the bond, he could feel Murtagh probe lightly, a quiet question if he was alright. Thorn sent a reassuring feeling in reply. He would be fine.

He turned his mind back to Fírnen’s lecture.


	2. Month two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyra has some questions

Humans were strange. 

Because she was only four months old, Lyra had no basis for what was standard human behaviour and what was just particular to her human.

She wanted to ask Thorn if it was normal for humans to want to mash their faces together, what did Regulus call it? Kissing? 

But that wouldn’t be something Regulus would be happy to have her ask Thorn about. But, but, why did he think about it and then shove the thought down? And why was he thinking about it now, even though he should be focusing on avoiding Murtagh’s strikes?

Instead, his consciousness was skittering about like a swarm of sparrows. That, Lyra knew, was just particular to her human.

“Keep your blade up!” Sionra yelled from outside the sparring ring. 

Regulus started to turn in her direction, he stopped himself from shifting all the way, but that was still enough for Murtagh to sweep his legs out from under him.

Beside Lyra, Thorn yawned. Then Lyra yawned too. Then she snorted in annoyance. 

Now wasn’t the time to sleep! 

But it was the perfect sort of environment for it, the sun shining warmly and a soft breeze blowing. Lyra knew Regulus had memories of falling asleep in his library. 

She shook herself awake and clambered to her feet as Murtagh pulled Regulus to his. He shifted around her human to explain something, taking hold of Regulus' arm, and moving it to demonstrate.

Regulus wasn’t paying any attention whatsoever. All Lyra could hear from him was scattered thoughts about how warm Murtagh was, and how nice he smelled, and why did he smell nice? 

“Focus!” Lyra ordered to Regulus. He shot her an alarmed look, 

“I’m trying!” embarrassment curled through the thought.

Lyra didn’t understand why he was embarrassed though, Murtagh seemed to be an adequate mate. He was getting much better at fighting his enemies, and he had Thorn, who was the strongest and the biggest dragon Lyra knew. 

But, humans were strange. Lyra knew this, just as she that her human was his own brand particular brand of strange.

He never wanted to fight anyone, and he was so sad sometimes. It was so frustrating, Lyra couldn’t bite the things that made him sad, she’d asked him, and he’d just sighed and told her some things couldn’t be fought. Thorn had said the same thing.

Lyra wasn’t sure she believed them. Maybe she would ask Murtagh. He always had interesting thoughts about things.

And he didn’t laugh at her for wanting to fight. Lyra knew she was small, but she was growing, it was a source of pride to her that she nearly reached Regulus’ waist. From what Fírnen had told her in four months, she’d be big enough to fly. 

Maybe that would make Regulus happy; he loved flying, they were his favorite memories to share with her when the whole world seemed too big for her to fight, and all she wanted to do was roar.

A shadow fell over Lyra, and she looked up to see Regulus smiling down at her. 

“Thinking about something interesting?”

“When I’m big, we’re going flying.”

He smiled wider, “that’s an excellent thought indeed.”

Lyra hummed, pleased, “yes, I know.”

***

Lyra woke to Regulus’ nightmares. Her human, he had so many fears, they tumbled into one another to create monstrous horrors.

He jerked awake and gasped for breath, hands flying to his throat. Lyra lifted herself to rest her head against his shoulder. She didn’t have to reach as far as she had in the past, a testament to how much she had been growing over the last few months.

She wished she could kill the nightmares. Everything would be so much easier if she could tear them with her claws and shred them with her teeth.

But alas, all she could do was curl around her human and wait for him to collect his scattered mind.

Eventually, he wrapped his arms around her neck and pressed his cheek onto the top of her head. 

Soon, Lyra would be too big and too heavy to sit in Regulus’ lap; it was the only thing she regretted about growing. He was warm and squishy and made an excellent seat.

“I think that’s a new record, my dear,” He murmured.

“Oh?” she curled closer, “what sort of record?”

“Somehow, my subconscious merged Voldemort and my mother into one scolding monster, and then I was drowning and my-” he cut off a shuddering sigh escaping him, “and then Sirius was standing above me, watching it all happen.” Lyra could feel his sadness even though he tried to hide it from her.

Sadness and guilt seemed to be his defaults. Lyra hated it.

“I’m going to fight your monsters,” she declared.

He snorted, “you can’t fight nightmares, I’m afraid.”

“No, I’m going to do it,” she knew he would laugh. He didn’t believe that she knew what she was saying. But it was alright, his mood had brightened, and that was all that mattered at the moment.

The cottage around them was quiet, though Lyra could hear the sounds of birds beginning to wake. Why they felt the need to be so loud was beyond her. 

Regulus yawned, but then instead of settling back to sleep, he climbed from their bed and wandered through the dark room.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m not going to be able to sleep anytime soon,” he rummaged around, books he was looking for his books, of course, he was, why had Lyra thought her human would do something sensible?

At least when he found the book he was looking for, he climbed back into the bed.

Lyra flopped out over his legs as he settled back against the headboard. 

“You can’t see that, how are you going to read it?” 

Regulus huffed a laugh. Then a soft light began to shine from his fingers.

“When did you learn to do that?” Lyra asked in excitement.

“When we were practicing floating those rocks yesterday during training,” Regulus began to explain. “I learned a similar spell in my first year at Hogwarts, and since I was able to perform the one in the elvish magic here without a wand, I wondered if I was able to perform that spell.”

“Oh that’s brilliant, how did you know to do the light?” 

“It was a guess really. I just figured that if I could cast one spell from my world, then I should be able to cast the others.”

“And can you?” Lyra's mind was racing with the possibilities, “can you make me bigger? Bigger than Vornogr? Can you imagine his face?”

“Slow down,” Regulus chuckled, “it’s a possibility, but I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me.” Of this, Lyra was certain.

“Never on purpose,” Regulus agreed, “but on accident? It’s a possibility I hate to acknowledge.”

Lyra huffed and laid her head in his lap. 

“Let me practice this before we try any sort of spell on you?”

“I suppose,” Lyra grumbled. She shifted to look at the book he’d picked, “what are you going to do now?”

“I want to practice,” Regulus explained, “Sionra gave me this book of Dwarvish poems to read, she said it was simple.”

“She didn’t,” Lyra corrected, “she said it was a children’s book.”

“Oh,” Regulus scowled, he didn’t like being treated like a baby either, then he shrugged, “well, I’ve got to learn somehow.”

“Why are you even learning Dwarvish anyway?” Lyra asked, “I know you have trouble learning just the human and elvish languages.”

“I want to be on Sionra’s good side.”

“Why? You don’t like her at all.” 

Regulus snorted, “no need to sound so judgemental, I simply think it would be beneficial to have her as an ally.”

“And why’s that? She can’t even beat Murtagh anymore.” 

“True, but she could beat me up if she wanted too.”

“She will not!” Lyra’s hackles rose up in offence. If that stupid dwarf tried anything, Lyra would bite her, tear her arms off, “if she hurts you, Thorn and I will eat her! And Murtagh would never let her try it! He’d kill her before she even put a scratch on you!” an itching burning sensation filled her throat, and her rage built.

“Whoa, whoa, Lyra!” Regulus raised his hands, the soft light emanating from his palm momentarily blinding Lyra and distracting her from her tirade. “I know! That’s why I’m trying to get on her good side. You can’t go around fighting everyone.”

“Why not?” Lyra pouted, “Murtagh does it all the time.”

“Murtagh isn’t a good example,” Regulus ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh, “okay, okay, think about it like this. If I’m not on Sionra’s good side, and she decides she wants to fight me,” he paused when Lyra growled, 

“She’d better not,”

“If, if Lyra, then I know you and Murtagh would clobber her into a bloody pulp, I’m certain of that, and that’s the problem.”

“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” Lyra argued, “we care about you.”

“I- no,” Regulus paused and waved his hands for a moment, “that isn’t the problem. The problem is what happens after you’ve finished enacting bloody vengeance.” He paused again, but Lyra didn’t interrupt this time, she’d figured she should let him finish before she pointed out the obvious holes in his arguments. 

“You know that there’s some sort of general animosity towards Thorn and Murtagh, right?” he asked.

“Yes.” 

“Well, I think that murdering Sionra will only make it worse,” he paused again, “does that make sense?”

Lyra pretended to carefully consider it. “Yes, but I don’t see why it would matter, she would have hurt you.”

“No, Arya and everyone, they would be upset. She matters more to-”

“No, she doesn’t!” Lyra cut him off, “why would you say that?” it made the itchy burning sensation returned, “she’s doesn’t matter more than you!” 

Regulus huffed, the little half-smile he made when he though Lyra was doing something silly forming on his lips.

“Yes, I know, thank you. But others might not see it that way.”

“Bullshit.”

Regulus shot her a flat look, “you’ve been spending too much time with Murtagh.”

“No, I just think you’re full of bullshit.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, “do elaborate on how you’ve come to that fascinating conclusion, please.”

Lyra rolled her eyes, “I just think you severely underestimate how much we care about you.”

“No, I know you care,” Regulus scowled at her disbelieving look, “I do, you underestimate how much I care about you.”

“I do not,” it galled her that Regulus thought she didn’t know how much he loved her.

“It’s not an insult- gah,” Regulus shoved his hands into his face, the light fading from his hand, and he took another long shuddery breath, “I’m not explaining this properly, let me try again.”

“It’s a protective strategy. If I’m on Sionra’s good side, then I don’t have to worry about you and Murtagh getting into more trouble than you already do. It’s better to be on friendly terms than to constantly be fighting someone, especially someone we can’t get rid of without a lot of trouble.”

Lyra tilted her head to the side contemplatively, “You’re making plans to get her?”

Regulus huffed, “she did give Murtagh a concussion.” He pressed his lips together, and a wave of guilt rushed through him, “maybe it’s wrong, maybe I’m being horrible, but - Sionra’s emotional, it’ll be an advantage over her to be in her good graces if ever we need to fight her.”

“Ohh,” Lyra nodded her head in understanding, “revenge.”

“Well,” Regulus started to agree with her statement, but then he stopped, “no, more like-,” and he paused a moment thoughts skittering and scattering about, “eventually she and Murtagh are going to reach the point of no return. And when that happens, we’re going to be on Murtagh side-”

“Duh.”

“Right, but Murtagh doesn’t have any allies, just us, so we need every advantage we can get if we want to win. Does that make more sense?”

Lyra hummed, “I suppose, but I still don’t see how learning Dwarvish poetry is going to help us fight Sionra.”

“It just is okay?” Regulus was clearly tired, Lyra could hear a yawn in his words.

“Okay.”

She stretched out at stared up at him, “lie down,” she demanded.

He snorted but did so.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about Sionra hurting Murtagh,” Lyra tried to console her human, “Thorn would eat her before she actually accomplished anything.”

***

“How do I make someone stop being sad?” Lyra asked Murtagh.

They were spending the afternoon together because the big dragons had flight practice, and Regulus had lessons. Thorn had gone hunting, but Lyra had decided to stay behind because she wanted to ask Murtagh this very important question.

Said human paused mid-bite of his lunch and scrunched up his face in thought.

“Well,” he swallowed his food, “that depends, I think. Who are we talking about?”

“What do you mean, who are we talking about?” Lyra didn’t realize that people could act differently when they were sad, “doesn’t everyone get sad?”

“Well yes,” Murtagh took another bite of what Lyra thought was some sort of plant, “why are you eating that?” she blurted.

Murtagh glanced down at his plants, “I’m hungry?”

“I know that, why are you eating grass?” she huffed, he couldn’t be that hungry could he? She was quite sure that he knew how to hunt, and even if he didn’t, Thorn would hunt for him.

He snorted, “it’s not grass; it’s a type of leaf. Humans eat all sorts of plants.”

“Could you eat grass?” Lyra was truly curious, maybe Regulus wanted grass, and that’s why he was sad.

“I suppose,” Murtagh shrugged, “but that’s more of an act of desperation sort of thing.”

“Does it taste good?” Lyra asked. She couldn’t imagine it did.

“Grass? No. This? Tastes fine.” Murtagh took another forkful. 

“Have you eaten grass?”

Murtagh grimaced, “once.”

“Why?”

He looked over at her a grin stretching across his face, “I wanted to know what it tasted like.”

Lyra snorted, “you a strange human.”

“Yeah, and how many humans have you met?”

“You. The ones in the castle, Regulus,” Lyra listed.

“Mm,” Murtagh chewed thoughtfully, “but you’ve only really spoken with Regulus and I, how can you be sure I’m strange then?”

That was a good question. 

“Well, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Strange?”

He laughed, “maybe a bit, but” he stopped, “humans are variable, there’s not really a normal amongst us.”

“Oh.”

“That’s why I wanted to know who was sad. Cheering up someone who’s sad changes depending on who the person is.”

“Regulus is sad,” Lyra told Murtagh, silently she hoped her human wouldn’t be too upset with her.

“Huh,” Murtagh leaned back in his seat and took a drink from his cup, “do you know why he’s sad?”

“No,” Lyra curled her tail around herself, “he just is, when he’s not distracted by you or the others, it’s always following him.” That she could not deal with the source grated on her deeply, it was why she had decided to ask Murtagh in the first place. 

“Hmm,” Murtagh was quiet for several moments, long enough for Lyra to begin to fidget, “Well, I couldn’t say for certain, but I think he misses his home.”

“I don’t think so.” Lyra knew Regulus wasn’t very happy with his family. From what he had told her, they all seemed awful.

“No?” Murtagh looked at her curiously, “could you describe what it feels like then? His sadness?”

Lyra shuffled a bit, as she searched for the right words. “It’s like the clouds,” she finally offered, “you don’t really notice until they block out the sun, but there’s no rain, they just stay there.”

“Huh,” Murtagh let a whistling breath, “that-” he paused, “that sounds like he’s holding onto something then.”

“What’s he holding onto?” Lyra asked.

Murtagh ran a hand over his face, and frowned. “I’m not saying this is what it is, because I don’t know what goes on inside of his head. But to me, it sounds like he’s grieving.”

“Grieving what?” Lyra asked.

“His family? His world?” Murtagh offered, he seemed agitated for some reason now. 

“Why are you upset?” Lyra needed to stop him from being upset, Thorn and Regulus would be disappointed if she let Murtagh get into a fight under her watch.

“I-” Murtagh let out a frustrated breath, “I never asked him what he wanted, and I never offered to take him back.”

“He says he can’t go back,” Lyra stated, it was a though that curled its way through Regulus’ thoughts, often right before the sadness swelled. Now that she thought about it, maybe Murtagh was right. 

“I could take him,” Murtagh explained, “back through the cave.”

“No,” Lyra shook her head, “its not,” she didn’t know the words, “it's not actually going through the cave, its something else, but I don’t-” frustration welled up inside her, she knew what she wanted to say, but she wasn’t sure how to say it.

“Is it like me?” Murtagh asked hesitantly.

“What do you mean?”

“There are places I can go to, physically, like I could walk or fly with Thorn too, physical place, yes?”

“Yes.”

“But I can’t go to those places, or-” he continued, “there would be bad consequences if I did. So maybe it's like that?”

“Yes!” Lyra jumped to her feet, the bench they were sitting on wobbling, “Yes, that’s it!”

She beamed at Murtagh, “you’re so smart! No wonder Regulus’ likes you so much!”

He coughed, “well-,” and rubbed the back of his neck, “wait- he likes me?”

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” Lyra hunched down in displeasure.

“Oh well,” Murtagh pressed a finger to his grin, “it’ll be our little secret then.” Lyra didn’t like secrets. They were hard to keep track of.

“So, you think he’s sad because he can’t go back?” She asked, trying to divert Murtagh’s attention. Maybe if she did it well enough, he would forget about her slip up.

“Maybe, then that kind of sadness, there isn’t much you can do about it, he needs to work through it on his own, give it time, he’ll come around.”

“I hate waiting, what if he never works through it?”

Murtagh tilted his head to the side in silent contemplation, “how about this? If he’s still this sad in a month’s time, I’ll talk to him? Alright?”  
“Yes, do that, but talk to him now,” Lyra demanded.

Murtagh huffed, “have some patience.”

“But everything goes so sloooow,” Lyra whined.

“That’s just because you’re young. As you get older, time will start to speed up.”

“Uggghhh, that’s still more waiting thoughhhh.”

He laughed, “well, I’ve got some good news for you.”

“What.”

“Thorn ran into Regulus on his way back, shall we go greet them?”

“Yes!” Lyra jumped off the bench, rocking it and nearly sending Murtagh tumbling off.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Barring any unforeseen circumstances, the next chapter should be out in about two weeks :)


	3. Month three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya, to herself, "Conceal don't feel."

Had Arya been unaware that Murtagh and Eragon were related, she would never have guessed it. The differences in temperament were startling and large.

She did not know quite how he had done it, but Murtagh had managed to make Regulus so upset the other human would no longer speak with him. So now he was brooding, in the middle of the training field, looking for a fight. 

Arya silently thanked the heavens Thorn had let her know in time to redirect Sionra to another field. The young dwarf was too emotional; she couldn’t control her temper when it came to Murtagh. That rage Arya understood, Sionra had grown up surrounded by bitter feelings towards Murtagh and Thorn. Now that she had finally met them, her anger towards Thorn had cooled as he showed no signs of the monster in the tales she had heard. Murtagh...

Arya wanted to know what possessed this human to act the way he did. She knew that humans were temperamental creatures, her time working with the Varden, and later with the human rulers had wiped away any doubt, and yet she had never met one quite so self-destructive.

As she watched him smash various training dummies, she debated the idea of simply sparring with him until he had worked out whatever nonsense had thrown him into such a rage this time. He was exhausting, he clearly had no control, and Arya’s patience was wearing frighteningly thin.

Silently she reminded herself why it would be a disaster of colossal proportions to actually go through with it.

One: Eragon had promised her Murtagh was a good man, and as young as he had been at the time, Arya did trust his judgement.

Two: Murtagh had been hurt by the war as much the rest of them had, he was still hurting, he did not know how to make it stop, and so he lashed out.

Three: If she did battle him, he would take it as a threat and run away into the woods. Even though Regulus was mad for some reason that Arya had not yet been able to parse together, she was sure he would eventually follow. That was the crux of her problem right there; She needed to keep them in sight. Murtagh was a stone thrown at an angry hornet's nest. His very presence was enough to shatter whatever fragile peace Arya had managed to hold together since Nasuada’s death. 

“Do you want something, or are you going to just stand there?” Murtagh demanded.

Arya eyed the damage he had wrought across the field. All of the dummies lay strewn about in mockery of corpses. There were holes in the ground where the grass had been ripped up, and the dirt beneath peaked through. 

“You are angrier than usual,” it was a neutral statement, but she could see him twisting it into something hostile in his mind.

“No, really?” his tone was bitingly sarcastic, “what gave you that idea?”

“I am not here to fight with you,” no matter how much she wanted too, as Sionra would say, grind him into the dust.

Murtagh made a face at her, but he didn’t seem likely to attack. 

“Would you like to talk about it?”

He scowled even harder, “No.”

Arya did not press. She simply stood and watched as he shuffled around, looking for something else to break.

Minutes passed. Perhaps she should have given up and let him brood. But the slow grinding frustration that had been building since his first fight with Sionra kept her in her spot.

How was she supposed to get anything done if he refused to even speak with her?

The state of the kingdoms was so precariously balanced that the slightest incident could send it all crumbling down, and here was this man with the power to upend everything and he clearly cared not a whit.

A part of Arya, the one that was still scarred from the war, from the loss of her lover, her friends, her mother, wanted to step back and watch him do it, let him set the world ablaze and watch the fires burn everything to ash.

But she remembered the cost of the last war, and she could not justify such destruction simply to soothe her own hurts.

Perhaps that was what truly set her teeth on edge and her ire rise. That Murtagh knew just as well the destruction. That he did not seem to care at all, as he continued to smash about unbothered by the consequences.

“I am angry,” Arya finally said, “there are parts of me that still hurt from the war, from all the horrors wrought on my people, on the other races of this land.”

Murtagh finally looked at her. His face was unnaturally blank.

“So?”

So. 

“Has all this fighting made you feel better?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“This,” Arya waved a hand at the field, “has this solved whatever fight you and Regulus are having?”

Murtagh’s shoulders were hunched, he was preparing for a fight, that was not what Arya wanted, but she found she no longer cared about soothing his temper.

He watched her warily, and Arya sucked in a deep breath.

“You are going to destroy everything,” he opened his mouth, maybe to protest, but Arya ignored him, “you are so concerned with your own tiny problems that you cannot even see past your own nose!”

She had not meant to lose her temper like that; Murtagh was sure to be provoked by her words. But, she found that she did not care.

But, he had an odd look on his face, almost taken aback, “is something else going on?” he finally asked.

Arya scowled at him, her mouth in a snarl, “No, really? Whatever gave you that idea?” she spit his words back at him.

He watched her, an odd quirk to his lips.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

The sheer audacity made her choke out a laugh. It sounded incredibly bitter even to her own ears.

But it cut through her rage, and she let out a sigh, “I should not have trivialized your pain, that was ill-mannered and unthoughtful.”

He frowned, but it was not as anger laden, “you don’t need to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like you haven’t got feelings.”

Arya raised an eyebrow, “Whatever makes you say that?”

“Isn’t that what elves are like? No emotions, noses point up at everybody else?”

Arya scrunched up her nose and in her most judgemental voice, said, “are not you humans supposed to be impulsive, thrill-seeking, morons?”

Murtagh snorted, and he raised his hands in surrender, “okay, okay, fair enough.”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Lyra’s worried about Regulus. I promised her that I’d talk to him if he didn’t improve.”

He paused to look at her, worry settling in his features. When Arya did not interrupt, he continued, “that was about a month ago, and obviously he didn’t, so I tried to talk to him, but he just clammed up. Now he won’t talk to me at all,” he wrapped his arms around himself, a faraway look in his eyes, “I don’t know what to do, something is wrong, he’s quieter, and I-” he broke off and finally looked at Arya, “I’ve been having the dreams again,” he admitted quietly.

He looked scared. 

Arya wondered if perhaps that was what had motivated this current outburst. She knew that Murtagh could see Regulus’ fate and that he likely felt responsible for the other human. They were a strange pair, for as much as Murtagh wanted to protect Regulus, Regulus wanted to follow Murtagh. 

“Would you like me to talk to him?” Arya asked, she desperately wanted to understand the strange connection the two of them had, but she knew that Murtagh just as desperately did not.

He shrugged, “I don’t know if that’ll help much, but he does respect you.”

“I will speak to him then, will you tell me about your dream?” Arya asked. 

Murtagh shrugged, “I think it was just a nightmare.”

“Why do you say that?”

Murtagh gave a wane smile, “it didn’t really… make sense?” he offered.

Arya waited for him to elaborate, but he did not say anything else.

They were silent a moment before Murtagh glanced up; in the sky, Arya could see the flash of red scales.

“Thorn’s just wondering if it’s alright for him to butt in,” Murtagh stated.

“Is it?” Arya asked. She could feel that they were coming to the end of their conversation, but if Murtagh had more to say, she was willing to listen.

“Yeah.”

“Very well, I will be taking my leave then.”

Arya turned and began to walk away.”

“Hey!”

She turned. Murtagh seemed as uncertain as she was of why he had called out to her. 

“Thanks, for listening, and-” he hesitated, “sorry for being such a pain in the ass.”

Arya felt a smile quirk on her lips. She nodded and then continued off the training field.

***

For all that Arya had meant to find Regulus immediately, she was drawn away from her search by Maedlr’s approach.

“My queen,” he gave a formal bow, one that Arya returned, and continued, “I have found some histories within the archives that I feel you should see.”

Maedlr was not one for theatrics. Arya was confident that, if what he had found was troubling him to this extent, then it was quite important. 

“Then let us go,” She told him, “What have you found?”

“I believe it to be a recording of the travels of our ancestors from the homeland to Alagaesia,” Maedlr told her as they headed towards the archives. 

The building that housed the archives was one that Arya had mixed feelings about, she had many fond memories, but it had been one of her mother’s favorite places, and the space still held bittersweet memories of her.

“And what does this history help us understand in the present?” Arya asked as they entered the archives, the crisp smell of paper surrounding them.

If we understand our history, we understand our present. This was a lesson Maedlr had often repeated to her when she was young. It was a line Arya had heard so many times she was sure she would remember even when she forgot all else. It was also one of Fírnen’s favorite lines. 

“Here, look at this,” Maedlr held out an old scroll, “this passage makes mention of our ancestors passage, it alludes to a great threat they were fleeing.”

“You taught me that our ancestors had come for the sake of adventure,” Arya commented, wondering why she had never heard this version of the story.

“Yes, I am aware,” Maedlr remarked dryly, even after all this time he still saw her as a child, “this is a highly contested theory. It is why I do not teach it to young scholars.” He gave her a judgmental look. Arya knew it was because she did not spend nearly enough time in the archives in his opinion. 

“What is the significance then?” Even as she asked the question, Arya regretted it. She knew her people valued patience. They already though her too rash from her time spent working with the other races and with Eragon.

Maedlr gave her an exasperated look, and Arya had to fight to maintain her composure under her former teacher’s gaze.

“It may hold some answers to the Aesrui and their claims.”

That was indeed, significant. When the Aesrui had first come to Alegaesia’s shores, Arya had felt alarmed, and even though they had not shown any hostility, their ambassador Thiandedín held an air of superiority about himself that Arya found intensely grating. 

And even though they had claimed that they wished for an alliance, relations between the kingdoms had begun to deteriorate in a way that they should not have. Perhaps it was baseless speculation, but Arya had been part of the Alegaesian rebellion for her first century, she understood the tactics used to destabilize governments. 

“Are there other mentions of this?” Arya asked.

“I have been searching. So far, there have been fourteen separate allusions to some threat in much of the other recordings.”

“You think they may not be as peaceful as they claim.” As much as the prospect worried her, it was relieving to have some evidence to back up the warning feeling she felt whenever she spoke with Thiandedín or his companions. 

“I think it would be foolish to leave such questions unanswered,” Maedlr gave her another long look, “After all, there is much we can learn from our history. If we understand our history, we understand our present.”

“Please continue to look in this then,” Arya ordered. She took a step back in preparation to leave.

“Surely you are not leaving so soon,” Maedlr asked.

“I have other business to attend to,” Arya answered.

“What business playing nursemaid to that broken human?” 

Arya stopped and gave Maedlr an unimpressed look.

“He is unstable. It would better to put him down before he repeats history,” Maedlr continued.

“And risk our alliance with the dragon riders of Argnor?” Arya asked instead of a reply. 

Maedlr frowned at her, but he did not respond.

“I will speak with you later,” Arya informed him.

She walked out of the archives with as much control as she could muster. It grated on her to have her own fears reflected by her people. She knew that they thought her soft for allowing Murtagh to run wild as he did. Thought her too blinded by her affections for Eragon that she was willing to overlook an obvious threat. Perhaps she was.

In the simple version of the story, where the mad king destroyed the dragon riders for denying him another dragon after his had died, it was easy to paint Galbatorix as the monster. And the man was a monster, Arya would never dispute that. She knew the damage he had done. But that version of the story ignored the circumstances in which he had risen to power. The dragon riders of the olden days had grown complacent, corrupt; they had not been the bastions of justice that they were remembered as.

And Murtagh was nothing like Galbatorix, nothing like his father Morzan, Galbatorix’s most loyal and most monstrous follower. He cared far too much. He had no lust for power or glory. 

As much as he infuriated Arya with his actions, and by the gods was he infuriating, he meant no harm. 

Eragon had promised her this. Nasuada had believed him and believed in Murtagh. And even though Arya had known how Nasuada had suffered at Murtagh's hands, even if had been under the control of Galbatorix, she had been adamant that Murtagh was not a bad man.

So Arya would trust them in this matter. The new order of dragon riders was weak, there were only eight in total, counting Murtagh and Regulus. With the threats mounting from within and without the land, they could not survive divided.

“It must be a rather big problem that has you worrying so loudly,” Fírnen commented as he swooped above her.

Arya grinned up at her dragon.

“Unfortunately, the fate of the kingdoms is rather weighty.”

Fírnen hummed over their bond as he swooped overhead.

“I do not suppose a flight will help you untangle this?”

“I am not sure, but that does sound lovely.”

Fírnen dove and snatched Arya from the ground.

“Now, what troubles you so?” he asked as she settled between his wings.

“I feel as if I am the only one in the whole world who is paying attention to the bigger picture,” she told him as they climbed higher into the air.

“Oh?”

“They are all so concerned with Murtagh and Thorn,” she explained, “They have no army and no support. In the grand scheme of things, they are hardly any sort of true threat.”

“And it frustrating seeing everyone act as if they do?” Fírnen understood her gripes. He had been subjected to her angry ranting often enough.

“Yes. They’re-” Arya sucked in a breath roughly, “they’re so concerned with them, that they don’t notice the Aesrui’s movements, the strange way Orik has been acting, the unrest amongst the races, the circumstances around Opheasa’s death!”

“You think it’s connected,” Fírnen had heard this rant too.

“I do! But no one seems to care!” Arya shouted. She needed to get herself under control; it was unbecoming of a queen to act so emotionally. Why today she was having such a hard time was beyond her. But the sudden death of Nasuada’s daughter affected Arya far more than she would like to admit. She knew humans had short life spans, she had come to terms with Nasuada’s death, but Arya had also promised Nasuada she would watch over the kingdoms and keep what they had fought so hard for from crumbling.

“They do all have their heads up their asses,” Fírnen commented.

“Fírnen!” Arya squawked in surprise.

“Sorry, is that not the expression?” Fírnen asked awkwardly. 

“Where did you learn such a thing?” Arya asked, bewildered.

“From Thorn, he said it to Vornongr when we were out flying last week,” Fírnen, twisted his head around to look at Arya, “I took it to mean an expression of displeasure?”

Arya huffed a laugh, “You are not wrong, but it is quite rude.”

“Ah,” Fírnen hummed. 

“What do you think of Thorn?” Arya asked.

“Well… I think I would not like to fight him,” Fírnen began, “he tries to be cordial when he interacts with us, but it is clear he has little experience with other dragons or even the other two-legged races. But he is very patient with Lyra, and he could act quite terrible, but he does not, so I suppose we could become friends one day.”

“How is Lyra?” Arya asked, “I know you said she was upset about something recently.”

“Lyra’s going to be an absolute terror when she gets big enough to fly,” Fírnen said without hesitation, “she is worried about Regulus at the moment, but if she was not, she would be out getting into all sorts of mischief.”

“Murtagh said something similar,” Arya added, “he said she asked him to talk to Regulus. That was what set him off this time.”

“What should we do?” Fírnen asked, “Regulus does not like to talk about his emotions, and he is very clever about avoiding situations where he might be forced to.”

Arya hummed in agreement. Regulus was sharp, far sharper than the other dragon riders in Ellesméra seemed to realize. Arya had a feeling that all that was holding him back was his lack of knowledge about his surroundings. She had watched the way he clung to Murtagh as the only thing he trusted in the world. It was starkly obvious, and it was part of the reason that Murtagh and Thorn inspired such fear. They clearly saw history repeated. 

“What do you think is wrong?” Fírnen asked, “he is a stabilizing influence on Murtagh, as much as Sionra and Murtagh fight, it would be much worse if Regulus did not intervene. I hate to think of what would happen if they get into a real fight.”

Arya was in agreement. At the moment, Murtagh and Sionra’s fights were nothing more than taunts and posturing. Tazuz seemed to find amusement in it and did not see the harm in letting them bicker. But Arya was sure that their fights were rapidly reaching the point of no return.

“I told Murtagh I would speak with Regulus,” She said, “do you know where he is?”

“I believe he was with Lyra near the cottage the last time I saw them. Shall we start our search there?” Fírnen offered.

“Yes.”

Fírnen angled out and turned to the west, they flew for a minute or two, until the cottage Arya had given the group came into view.

Thorn was curled in front, and he raised his head when Fírnen landed.

“Hello,” he greeted, “what brings you here?”

“I told Murtagh I would speak with Regulus,” Arya told him.

“Ah,” Thorn looked mildly guilty, “it seems they’ve worked it out themselves.”

“Oh. Indeed?”Arya had always been a bit puzzled by how fast human emotions shifted. 

“Mhmm. I think Lyra guilted Regulus into apologizing, and Murtagh wasn’t angry anymore, so they made up.”

“Well, that is good,” Arya paused a moment, “how are you?”

“I am well.”

“Will you be joining us for our next flight?” Fírnen asked.

“I will, Lyra wants to come too,” Thorn answered, “she doesn’t like to be left out.”

“It will be a pleasure to have her.”

“I’m sure she’ll be delighted by the news.”

They were all silent for a moment before Thorn turned to Arya,

“Thank you for talking to him,” he said, “I know he’s a big pain when he’s upset.”

Ayra smiled at him, “It was not a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> The next chapter is Regulus' POV, and it should be out in about two weeks. But y'all know at this point I have no ability to judge how long it'll take me to write something. 
> 
> Drop me a comment if you feel so inclined, it makes my week :)


	4. Month four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murtagh and Regulus have a conversation.

“Regulus! Regulus! Watch this!” Lyra yelled from her perch in one of the taller trees.

“Please tell me you aren’t about to do what I think you’re about to do,” Regulus begged her even though he knew that his pleas were in vain.

Lyra launched herself from the tree. 

Right on top of Vornongr, who let out a displeased yelp. 

“You’re a menace!” He growled at her as she tumbled off into the grass, snorting laughter rumbling from her mouth.

She’d been jumping onto the other dragons in what she liked to call ‘training.’ But all it really amounted to was her annoying the others with her antics.

If Regulus didn’t know better, he’d say she was restless. At four months old, and wasn’t that bizarre, because Regulus could have sworn he’d known her for much longer, she was nearly large enough to fly on her own power. 

But not quite yet. Many failed attempts and nearly broken bones had attested to that. 

“That was fun,” Lyra commented as she bounded up to Regulus, she was taller than him now, and it was a great source of pride for her, “what shall we do now?”

“I wanted to look at that book Queen Arya had given me on runes,” he told her.

Lyra let out a loud sigh and flopped onto the ground, “noooo, no more reading, pick something elsesss.”

Regulus huffed, “you don’t need to come with me. Why don’t you go find Hurana or Thorn if you’re so against the idea?”

“Yes!” Lyra sprung up, “let’s go find Thorn and Murtagh!”

“What? No! I said you can do that. I’m going to read.” 

“You can read with Murtagh!” 

Regulus frowned up at her, but he couldn’t think of an excuse that would appease her. Learning the languages of Alegaesia was hard, learning to read them was harder. Regulus enjoyed reading with Murtagh; he didn’t judge him for making stupid mistakes.

“Fine,” Regulus gestured for her to lead the way, “After you.”

She turned and bounded off, pausing to make sure he was following, then continuing.

Regulus trailed after her at a more sedated pace. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with Murtagh, but things had been awkward between them ever since Murtagh had tried to talk to him about feelings. Regulus was fine. Nothing was wrong, he didn’t know why Lyra seemed to think something was wrong with him. And Regulus really was fine, it wasn’t like he was an inconsolable mess.

Up ahead, Lyra launched herself onto Thorn. The big dragon showed no signs of annoyance. He was the only one who seemed charmed by Lyra’s antics, even Fírnen had grown frustrated with them at this point. 

“Thorn, Thorn,” Lyra chanted, “where’s Murtagh? Regulus wants to read more.”

Regulus nodded to Thorn as he finally caught up with the pair.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother if he’s busy,” he offered, “how are you?”

“I am well,” Thorn answered, “and it won’t be.”

“What’s this?” Murtagh asked as came around Thorn’s other side. His hair was tousled and sleep ruffled.

“Did we wake you up?” Regulus cringed inside, he knew Murtagh had been having nightmares again. The last thing he wanted was to disturb the man when he was finally getting some rest.

“No, no,” Murtagh shook his head and waved a dismissive hand, “just resting my eyes for a moment.” He ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it, “you want something?”

“Hm?” Regulus blinked, he had been momentarily distracted, “Oh, I don’t want to be a bother-”

“It’s not a bother.” 

Regulus nodded awkwardly. Murtagh had a very intense gaze, Regulus never quite knew how to act when the other man was giving him his undivided attention.

“Regulus wants to read!” Lyra yelled as she half dangled off of Thorn.

“Oh,” Murtagh smiled, “what are we looking at this time?” he held out his hands expectantly.

“I have a book on runes? But I don’t actually have it with me,” Regulus flushed, “it’s back in the cabin,” he gestured awkwardly, “we were going to get it when we ran into you.”

“Alright, let’s go then.” Murtagh set off in the direction of their quarters. Regulus trailed behind him, Lyra and Thorn did not.

“Aren’t you coming?” He asked Lyra in confusion.

“No, you’re coming back here anyway,” she pointed out as she lounged on Thorn. “You should go, though.”

Regulus turned, and he saw Murtagh waiting for him.

“Right.”

He jogged to catch up to Murtagh, offer a quick “sorry” when he reached his side. 

Murtagh smiled at him, a quick quirk of his lips, and turned and began walking.

They walked in silence for a few moments before Murtagh broke it by asking, “so, runes?”

“Yes. I...uh...I think it’ll be interesting.”

Murtagh hummed, “did you learn runes in your home?”

Regulus felt a tiny flash of irritation, he knew Murtagh was just trying to make conversation. Still, it felt like the other man was prying once again.

“Something like that,” he answered tersely.

They spent the rest of the walk in silence, and Murtagh didn’t follow him in when Regulus went to retrieve his book.

Regulus stood for a moment in his dimly lit room, trying to remember if he had put his book with the others, or if he had been reading it in bed. A brief search around the room revealed that the book was in neither of those places, and two searches later found Regulus in the same spot deeply perplexed.

A soft knock alerted him to Murtagh’s presence in the doorway.

“Everything alright?”

“I can’t find my book.” Regulus hated how brittle his voice sounded.

“Oh,” Murtagh stepped into the room, “do you remember where it was last?”

“I think I was reading last night, but it’s not in my bed,” Regulus explained, trying desperately to keep his voice level. It bothered him more than he could put into words that he couldn’t remember.

Murtagh nodded, he scanned the room for a moment before smiling and stooping to grab something from underneath the bed.

“Is this it?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Murtagh held onto the book even as Regulus reached for it, “are you alright.”

“I’m fine.” Regulus grabbed the book from Murtagh and turned without a glance. As he exited the cottage, he felt guilt curl through him, and his shoulders hunched. He paused to wait for Murtagh at the front door.

Murtagh didn’t look happy. Whatever calm he had been feeling earlier was clearly gone, and his shoulders were tense.

“I’m alright, Murtagh,” Regulus tried to be more reassuring, “really.”

“I know.” 

Regulus winced internally at his tone. He knew Murtagh didn’t believe him, and he didn’t know how to prove that he was fine to the other man.

“What can I do to make you believe me?” They couldn’t go on like this, dancing around the subject. Murtagh was liable to explode, probably at Sionra, and Regulus didn’t want that.

“I believe you.”

“No. You don’t.”

They exchanged a look of mutual frustration.

Murtagh was the one who broke it first, he let out a loud sigh of frustration and made to open the door. 

“What’s wrong?” Regulus asked, blocking the door.

“Nothing,” Murtagh answered, raising his eyebrows in exasperation, “I’m fine.”

Regulus scowled at the repetition of his own words. 

“Okay.” 

They walked out together, but the air between them was tense.

“What’s wrong?” Lyra asked him through their bond, “why are you upset?”

“I’m not,” Regulus denied.

“Bullshit.”

“Really.”

“More bullshit.”

Regulus didn’t respond, distracted by Murtagh, suddenly stopping in his tracks.

Peering around the other man, he saw Sionra at the far end of the path.

“Let’s go a different way,” he suggested.

Murtagh looked down at him, “why?”

Dread ran through Regulus. “It’ll be faster.”

Murtagh shrugged and gestured to the path, “this is the way we came.”

Regulus knew he had seen Sionra, but he also knew that Murtagh was acting obtuse on purpose. He decided to try a direct approach.

“Please don’t fight.”

“Fight? Fight with who?”

“Sionra.”

Murtagh snorted, “it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine!” Regulus hissed.

Murtagh shifted, cocking his head to the side, “oh no?”

Regulus let out a high noise of frustration.

Murtagh crossed his arms.

Something in Regulus snapped. He threw up his hands, snarling out an angry “Fine!” And walked away in the opposite direction.

He didn’t care if Murtagh followed. He hadn’t even wanted to read with Murtagh to begin with. Regulus could feel his rage thundering through him like a storm, violent and destructive. He started walking faster, he didn’t want to be around anyone, that would just make them a target. He shoved Lyra away when she tried to reach him through their bond, a faraway corner of his mind desperately wanted to avoid hurting her. Regulus knew that if they spoke now, he would say something cutting and horrible. It was the way his family expressed their anger, and he hated it. 

He broke into a sprint.

Regulus didn’t know where he was going, but he was sure that it had to be away, away from here, and all these soft people who didn’t guard their emotions and who didn’t do the delicate social dance Regulus had grown up performing. Always keeping loved ones an arm’s length. 

He ran. He ran and ran and ran until his lungs were burning and his legs were aching and then even further because the inferno in his head wouldn’t die and he could bare to stand in the ashed of another destroyed family and-

Regulus tripped on a root. 

Slammed down and tumbled into a ravine. 

When the world stopped spinning, he gazed up into the trees and found that the gaps in the leaves where the sun shone through looked like stars.

It was heartbreaking. 

Regulus knew he should get up. Knew Lyra would be worried. Knew that his sudden disappearance would have consequences.

But he couldn’t bring himself to care. For once, the world was blessedly quiet. He didn’t have to worry about what anyone thought of him. No one to see what he really was and turn away in disgust.

Throwing an arm over his eyes, he drew in a shuddering sigh, letting all his thoughts slide away and just listening to the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. 

Regulus finally became aware of the pain in his body, from the burning in his lungs and legs, to the stinging of various scrapes he must have gotten from his fall. 

He also became aware of Lyra’s panic.

“Lyra,” he reached out to her, lifting the block he had out between them, “shush.”

“Regulus! What was that!”

“An emotional meltdown.”

“Why are you so calm now!!!”

“Dunno, no more emotions?”

He could feel her frustration, but he had no energy left. The adrenaline rush from earlier was wearing off, and now Regulus felt like one big throbbing bruise. He deserved it though. The sounds of the forest were returning now that Regulus’ breathing was quieting. 

It was soothing.

“Don’t fall asleep Regulus!” Lyra ordered.

“’m not, jus’ resting my eyes,” Regulus told her. 

“Well stoppp!” Lyra demanded.

Regulus huffed despite himself. Dragging his arm off of his face, he squinted up at the treetops once again.

There was a rustling above him, and Murtagh came into view.

He half slid, half ran down the ravine side, and as he came closer, Regulus could see the distress on his face.

With a grown, Regulus dragged himself up into a sitting position. He had to close his eyes briefly when the world started spinning, and when he opened them, Murtagh was right in front of him. A wave of calm went through Regulus.

“Hi?” he offered.

Murtagh opened his mouth, then his shoulders shook, and Regulus wanted nothing more than to reassure him that everything was alright. 

But they both knew it wasn’t. 

“I...I won’t ask if you’re okay, because...well you clearly aren’t. And I know you don’t want to talk about it,” Murtagh said softly, “but Regulus, you scared me, when you took off like that… it was terrifying.”

Regulus wrapped his arms around himself and dragged his knees up to his chest. He winced at the sharp throbbing in his knee when he did. When he had fallen had must have slammed his knee into the ground, the foliage had torn his pants leg, and the visible skin was raw red and bleeding slightly.

Murtagh noticed and reached out, his hand stopping before he made contact, “may I?”

Regulus bent out his leg, pressing his lips together to stop from whimpering at the pain.

Murtagh spoke the words for a healing spell, and they were silent while the magic did its work.

Regulus didn’t know how to explain that everything had just become too much all at once, that being emotionally vulnerable felt like cutting out his heart. That he didn’t even know the names of the emotions swirling in his skull, and if he tried to parse through them, he would drown. Regulus had nearly drowned, it was an experience he never wanted to repeat.

“It… wasn’t my intention to scare you,” he apologized, “I just…” he didn’t know why he had taken off, he didn’t know why he had been acting so awful, he needed to get himself under control.

“Yeah,” Murtagh agreed softly, “I understand.”

“You know me,” he elaborated when Regulus gave him a curious look, “I don’t really handle being afraid well. It just turns into anger and then I get into stupid fights.”

“I don’t understand that,” Regulus said quietly, “getting into fights you don’t know you’ll win.”

“Oh, well,” Murtagh shifted to sit beside Regulus, “it’s not really about winning?”

“No?”

“Naw, more like… control? To fight means that you have some control, that you won’t just take whatever shit someone is giving you.”

“Huh,” that made sense in some twisted way, it almost sounded like - “that sounds like my brother.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

Regulus let out a dull laugh, “Yes, well, I haven’t spoken to him in years.”

Murtagh was quiet for a moment, “I haven’t spoken to mine in nearly a century.”

Regulus blinked and turned to look at Murtagh. The other man was staring at the ground, emotions curling across his face, regret and pain and guilt. It was like looking in a mirror.

“Is he still alive?” Regulus knew in an abstract sense that the dragon riders lived a very long time. But, he hadn’t yet truly comprehended the idea that one could outlive their family.

“Oh yes,” a bitter tone entered Murtagh’s voice, “he’s off in Argnor playing hero I imagine.”

Regulus filed that information away to think about another day.

“Do you…” he didn’t know how to put the thought into words, “do you miss him?” Regulus missed Sirius, he had been missing him for a long time.

“I… maybe? I didn’t know he existed for a long time, and when I did know we were related, we were on opposite sides of a war.”

Regulus couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping him, and could only smile awkwardly when Murtagh raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sorry, that’s not funny, I just- that happened to me too.”

Murtagh tilted his head, his lips quirking into the beginning of a smile, “you and your brother didn’t know you were related until you were fighting against one another?”

“Oh well, I’ve always known he was my brother, but the fighting on opposite sides bit is the same.”

“Huh,” Murtagh laughed softly, “okay, that is kind of a weird coincidence.”

“Why didn’t you know he was your brother?” Regulus asked.

“Oh, Oh! Well,” a manic glint lit in Murtagh’s eyes, “my father was an absolute piece of shit, so my mother had an affair with an enemy of his, and then hid the child in a remote farm out in the edges of the empire.” He laughed at Regulus’ alarmed face. “The funny part is I actually went looking for him, the kid - Eragon, for a completely different reason. Imagine my surprise when it turns out we’re half-brothers.”

“Wow,” Regulus said, unable to think of any other response, “wait, that isn’t the same Eragon that’s in charge of the dragon riders, is it?”

“Oh yes, that’s him; hero of Alegaesia, incapable of any wrongdoing,” Murtagh huffed a loud, bitter laugh, and flopped back onto the ground “The worst part is he’s actually a great guy.” 

Regulus leaned back to match him, “it’s awful always being compared to someone else.”

“Yeah.”

They were quiet for a long moment, just staring up into the treetops.

There were so many things Regulus wanted to say. He wanted to apologize, to say that he knew Murtagh just want to help. That he was wonderful and Regulus was sure he wouldn’t like Eragon even half as much as he liked Murtagh, that this world was so much better than the one he had come from, but he still missed his home.

“I miss my brother,” he said instead, “it’s my fault we never talk, but I miss him.”

“I sorry you know,” Murtagh said, “that I never asked if you wanted to go home, you’ve kind of just been dragged into this whole mess.”

“You saved my life,” Regulus replied, he rolled onto his side to look at Murtagh, “I was so sure I was going to die, and then I opened my eyes… and there you were, I didn’t know what to think.”

Murtagh turned to face him, “you were so confused, it was kind of funny.”

“I remember thinking it was so odd that you were laughing at me, I didn’t know anything at all, but I wasn’t scared.”

Murtagh tilted his head, “no?”

“No, I don’t know why everyone seems so frightened of you, sure you’ve got a temper, but everyone does, and you don’t go out of your way to be cruel.”

“Yes well, had we met a hundred years ago, you would be thinking very differently.”

“People change Murtagh, had we met two years ago you wouldn’t have liked me in the least.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Regulus laughed and rolled onto his back. He was sure Murtagh would have killed him had they met when Regulus still believed the Dark Lord’s lies. 

“It was my birthday a few days ago,” Regulus commented. He felt Murtagh shift beside him, but he didn’t turn to look at him. “I’ve been keeping track of the days, but I wasn’t… I’m nineteen now. It doesn’t really matter, in the grand scheme of things, but I can’t help but wonder if anyone misses me.”

Regulus didn’t think anyone actually would, maybe Kreature, but he was a house-elf, and they didn’t really feel the same way humans did.

Murtagh was silent beside him for another long moment, then, “Thorn says that it doesn’t matter what other people think.”

“Really.”

“I guess … you should just live for yourself?” Murtagh let out a frustrated sigh, “I don’t know what to tell you, my family was fucked up, and there’s no one besides Thorn who would really be upset if something happened to me, so I’ve only got that.”

“I would be upset,” Regulus disagreed, “Lyra too.”

“Well, me and Thorn would miss you, if you decided to go back to your homeland.”

Regulus smiled at Murtagh, “Thanks.”

He nodded, “We should probably head back, Lyra and Thorn are pretty worried.”

Regulus sighed, “I have to apologize to her, I shouldn’t have blocked her out.”

“It’s okay to need mental privacy sometimes,” Murtagh said. “It’s a hard transition from being the only one in your own head to sharing your thoughts with someone else. Even if that person cares deeply about you.”

Regulus nodded. 

Murtagh shoved himself off the ground and dusted himself off, then he held out a hand to Regulus.

“Do you still want to read?”

“I do.”

Murtagh pulled him up easily, and Regulus internally marvelled at how easily the other man was always able to do it.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“The book!” Regulus looked around frantically, “I must have dropped it when I fell!”

“Oh! Oh, I’ve got it,” Murtagh held out the book on runes, thankfully unscathed, “I knew you’d be worried.”

“Oh,” Regulus breathed out, the panic receding, he took the book and smoothed a hand over the cover, “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me ahead of schedule, it's a goddamn miracle. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! if you feel so inclined to drop me a comment about either a) how you found this story or b) which of the original works have you read, or both, honestly, I'm just mad curious about the people who look at this fic and decide "yes, this, I am going to read this." 
> 
> The next chapter is Murtagh's Pov and it should be done in about two weeks (I hope).
> 
> Y'all are wonderful, Happy holidays :D


	5. Month four point five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised that this chapter would be from Murtagh's Pov, but I felt that there was still some unresolved stuff with Regulus and Lyra that needed to be expanded upon. I'm also sorry I said the next chapter would be out in two weeks and then took three months to write it. The muses abandoned me, and school ending up taking way more energy and focus than I anticipated.

Lyra was angry. She knew she was because her throat burned and her claws itched. 

She was angry at Regulus.

He shut her out. She did not want him to shut her out. She didn’t want to be alone in her own mind while he was alone with his. She knew Murtagh had talked with him, that day he had run off into the forest. 

And maybe they had worked out whatever argument they had been having, or pretending they weren’t having. But Regulus was still shutting her out a week later. 

He was laughing at something Murtagh had said as they ran through some sort of sword move. But it didn’t matter how happy he seemed, he was a good actor, and how could Lyra watch out for him if she didn’t know how he felt? 

Regulus could protect himself from magic, and Lyra would protect him from physical attacks, but she couldn’t protect him from the dangers in his own head. It burned her inside out that she couldn’t.

Lyra shoved herself off of the ground. She couldn’t stay still a moment longer. Thorn turned his head to watch, “going somewhere interesting?”

“No.”

“Lyra.” 

“What.”

“...” Thorn was silent for a moment, “be careful.”

“Of what? I’m the scariest thing for miles.”

“Arrogance doesn’t become you.”

Lyra rolled her eyes as she began to climb a nearby tree.

“I’m serious Lyra, taking your strength for granted will get you killed.”

Lyra ignored the urge to ask when he had ever misjudged his own strength. She continued to climb. The sky was calling to her.

“Lyra,” Regulus’ voice asked, “what are you doing?”

“Climbing.” She answered.

“Why?”

She snorted, she was mad, mad mad mad, and she didn’t want to yell at him, but she really really did.

“Lyra, be careful,” Regulus cautioned.

“Yes I know,” Lyra huffed “I’m not a hatchling.”

“What wrong?” Regulus asked her.

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s not my problem.”

She was high now, high enough that the branches below her were making it hard to see Regulus on the ground. Her human was small, she hadn’t realized when she was younger, but he was, and it bothered her in a way she didn’t have the words for.

She never had the right words, ones that would convince everyone she wasn’t a stupid little hatchling anymore. That she knew that they tried to keep trouble from her because they didn’t want her to worry.

Well, they were all morons because she worried anyway, and it made her so angry.

The branch she was on creaked beneath her weight.

“Lyra,” Thorn cautioned, “I wouldn’t climb any higher.”

She ignored him.

“Lyra, what’s wrong?” Regulus called out in English. He only did that when he didn’t want the others to hear what he was saying. Lyra liked having something only the two of them could understand, but at that very moment, it made the burning in her throat even worse.

“Nothing.” Nothing was wrong. Everything was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. Lyra was on fire; she was an inferno in a too-small container.

“Are you upset about last week?” Regulus asked. His shout was echoed in his mind.  
“No! Yes! Maybe!”

She continued to climb, she needed to go up, the sky was calling her.

“I’m sorry I worried you!” Regulus apologized. He was no longer speaking aloud.

“I know!” The tree was bending, but Lyra didn’t stop. She wasn’t high enough.

“I’m not a hatchling!” 

“I know that!”

“No, you don’t!”

“Lyra!”

“You don’t! You never tell me anything!”

“I don’t want to hurt you!”

“It hurts me when you shut me out!”

She was high, not high enough, no it was never enough, but she could see the tops of the trees all around her. She was sick of the forest. Sick of the ground. 

She spread her wings.

“Lyra be careful!” Regulus and Thorn shouted in unison.

Lyra jumped.

The wind drowned out all sound, and for one glorious moment, nothing mattered except the air under her wings and the steady pull of gravity.

Then she hit a branch.

Regulus shrieked, and Thorn bellowed, and Lyra used her momentum to hit another.

She crashed down through the canopy roaring in delight. How good it felt to move without fear of breaking something!

She landed on the ground with a resounding crash.

“I know what I’m doing,” she primly informed Regulus as she shook off a few branches that had landed on her.

“You’re giving me a heart attack is what you’re doing,” Regulus growled at her.

“Well, how do you think I feel when you go off without talking to me?” She asked tritely.

“That was a completely different situation!” Regulus shouted, eyes wide and face red “You could have broken your neck!”

“I wouldn’t!” 

“That’s- gaaah!” he waved his hands angrily at her. He shoved his face into his hands, his finger curling into his hair.

Lyra was still mad, but she did feel a bit bad for scaring him. Well, it was payback for when he had shut her out she decided. 

“I know you’re eager to prove yourself Lyra, but acting recklessly isn’t going to do that,” Murtagh stated quietly.

“Butt out, Murtagh,” Lyra growled. 

“Watch it hatchling,” Thorn growled in response, “you’re young, but that’s no excuse for how you’ve been acting.”

“I’m not a hatchling!” Lyra roared at Thorn, “I’m not a baby, stop treating me like I’ve got no sense!” She didn’t know who she was yelling at anymore, she was just yelling. “I hate all the secrets, everything is a secret, and no one talks to me!”

The itching feeling was back, and she couldn’t contain it any longer, “Aggghhh!!!!” a stream of fire roaded from her jaws.

It lasted for less than a second, but Lyra felt all of the anger drain out of her. 

She met Regulus’ eyes, he didn’t look scared, but the ground where he’d been standing was charred. It was only because of Murtagh’s arm around his waist, dragging him away, that he hadn’t been burnt to a crisp.

“Lyra…”

She didn’t wait for him to finish. She turned and bolted into the trees, shame burning through her far more than any flame could.  
“Lyra. Lyra!” 

She ignored the calls. How could she bear to face Regulus?

The trees whipped past her, and she didn’t care. She was the worst dragon in existence.

The sun was low in the sky when she finally stopped running. The trees cast long shadows, and she curled up in the roots of one. She stayed like that for hours, as twilight fell, and the air cooled into night. 

***

“Lyra!” the sound of Regulus’ voice woke her from the doze she had fallen into. 

“Lyra, where are you?” He cried. 

She sunk farther into the tree’s roots. Still half asleep, she gazed around for Regulus. It was dark here, deep in the forest, and Lyra half wondered if anyone had ever been this far out. But then she chided herself for being silly. Surely the elves had wandered all over the forest.

“Lyra, please,” Regulus begged, “please just talk to me.” He sounded exhausted.

“I know you’re mad at me-” She wasn’t. “Merlin’s beard, of course you are. But please, I can’t-” His voice broke off. Lyra inched forward as she realized Regulus was much closer than she’d thought. 

Close enough, in fact, that she could hear him even as he muttered to himself.

“-stupid, useless, absolutely pathetic. You get someone who actually cares about your worthless ass, and you do what? You push her away. You, Regulus Black, are perhaps the most godforsaken, wretched creature in existence. You-”

Turning around the trunk of the tree slowly, Regulus finally came into Lyra’s view. He was standing on the other side with his face smashed into his hands. His shoulders were shaking, and Lyra felt guilt wash over her anew. 

“This is ridiculous, she’s probably leagues away. I’m just attracting wild beasts with all of my shouting.” 

He was quiet after that, though his shoulders continued to shake. 

“What’s the point?” he blurted angrily. “I should just find a pond and drown myself properly this time!”  
“Don’t do that!” Lyra shouted, bursting from her hiding spot.

“Lyra!” His face lit up. “Are you alright?”

“Am I alright? Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Lyra shouted indignantly.

“What? I’m fine! You’re the one who went running off, I was worried you’d been eaten by something!” He cried in response.

“You were the one who was almost barbecued!”

“Oh please, that was barely a spark!” 

“If Murtagh hadn’t pulled you out of the way, you would have been toast!”

“I’m fine! I know you didn’t mean it.” He was trying to placate her. She had almost killed him, and he was trying to comfort her. 

“You shouldn’t forgive me so easily!” She cried in frustration, “I’m the worst dragon ever, how could you possibly want someone who hurts the people they love?”

“I could ask you the same question!” He shouted back. “I’m the last person you should have chosen for a rider!”

“Don’t say that!”

“It’s true!”

“No!”

“What do you mean no? I’m a monster!” Regulus screamed, voice breaking into a sob, “what in the world could you possibly see in me?”

Lyra didn’t have the words. She never did. What could she say to let him know that she loved him, to convince him that he was worthy in her eyes? That there was some sort of deep knowing that lived in her bones and in her heart that told her he was hers?

She saw him there, shrouded by night, and she knew if she did not find some way to tell him that they were one and the same; made of flight and fire, she would lose him. 

And she could not bear that. 

But she did not know how to tell him that. In desperation, she poured out all the feelings that were swirling about in her mind across their bond. 

That she loved him and could not bear to lose him. That she despaired to see him in pain, to feel the old hurts that haunted him and know she could do nothing to soothe them. That she could not imagine being bound to anyone else. 

That she desperately wanted to support him and protect him as much as he did for her. 

For a moment, for a moment, she feared her thoughts had not reached him. She gazed into his tear-stained face and thought all her efforts had been for naught.

But then he responded in kind. A great flowing of fear, and sadness, and misery, and grief, memories of a cold home, and a family who were not and a loathing for himself that left her stunned. 

The forest was quiet all around them, but Lyra did not mind the silence for once. She stretched herself out on the floor and leaned her head to rest against Regulus. His arms came up and wrapped around her maw.

The bond between felt raw, but it didn’t hurt. A great exhaustion washed over Lyra, and she was certain Regulus felt it too. He released his grip and ducked under her head to curl against one of her legs. She settled her head on her other leg and tucked her wings against herself.

Sleep came quickly after that.

***

Wakefulness came slowly. First, it was the sounds of birds chirping in the trees, then the feeling of a cool breeze. Lyra didn’t want to wake up, not really, but then she felt Regulus begin to stir, and she knew morning had come. 

Opening her eyes to squint at the trees around her, she realized she had never seen this part of the forest before. 

“I do believe we’re lost,” Regulus said softly.

Lyra looked down at him, he was still curled against her leg, he looked just as worn out as she felt. 

“Sorry.”

He shook his head, “it’s not your fault.”   
The silence that hung between them was awkward. Lyra let out a yawn, and then she slowly rose to her feet. Her joints made odd, popping noises as she stretched. 

She looked down at Regulus, who was attempting to brush the dirt off of his clothing. He didn’t seem upset. He looked up at her.

“I’m not mad.”

She shrugged.

“I’m not,” he repeated, “I think we’ve just had a miscommunication, and we’re trying to work things out.”

“Everything feels like a miscommunication,” Lyra grumbled, “lately all we seem to do is fight.”

Regulus sighed, “I know. I don’t-” he sighed again and rested a hand against his chin, “I owe you an apology. I-”

“You don’t though!” Lyra cut in. Regulus smiled at her, “Let me finish Lyra,” he said gently, “I owe you an apology because I’ve never had my feelings on display like this before. It makes me feel vulnerable,” he continued, “and the way I’ve dealt with a vulnerability like that was to pretend it didn’t exist. I know you just want to help, and I shouldn’t have shut you out.”

“I shouldn’t have demanded,” Lyra added softly, “It’s just… you’ve had all this time to live and learn and experience the world, and I feel like I’m always playing catch up.”

“Lyra, you’re only four months old, of course, you don’t know everything.” Regulus wrapped his arms around Lyra’s neck.

“Yes, but I don’t want you to have to parent me,” she said as she leaned into him, “I want to be your equal.”

“You are, it would be a grave insult to think of you as anything less.”

“Hmm.” 

“I’ve done terrible things, Lyra,” Regulus said quietly, “of my own free will no less. It doesn’t matter how misguided I was, I cannot undo what has been done.”

“Then be better, here, now, in this world,” Lyra told him, “the dragon riders are the protectors of the land. So we will be protectors too.”

Regulus huffed, and a soft smile formed on his face. “Alright then.”  
He seemed lighter, and even though the storm clouds in his mind still lingered, they weren’t as all-consuming. 

A growl broke through the morning air. Regulus laughed, “I suppose we should find our way out of this forest and towards breakfast?”

Lyra’s own stomach growled, and she laughed as well “yes, please.”

Regulus looked up at the trees, “do you think if we can get high enough, we’ll be able to see something familiar?”

Lyra let out a hum, “I thought you didn’t want me climbing trees?” 

“Well I can’t tell my partner what to do, can I?

Lyra huffed a laugh, “No, you can’t, I suggest you should climb on my back though, I can travel faster than you,” she teased. 

“That’s because your legs are longer.” Regulus pointed out, pretending offence, “how can I, a mere human, keep up with my dragon when she’s near twice my size and still growing?”

Lyra snorted, and she felt him attempt to lift himself onto her back.

“Shall I bend down so you can reach?” She asked.

“No, no, I’ve got this.” 

He didn’t, but Lyra let him struggle for a few moments before she crouched enough for him to finally climb up.

“Not a word,” he hissed at her, even though she knew he could feel her amusement through their bond.

Climbing up the nearest tree was easy enough, but as she continued to climb higher, she slowly began to realize just how high the trees really were.

“They must be so old,” she remarked to Regulus as she moved from branch to branch, “do you think they’ve been here since the beginning of the forest?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “the trees were never this large in the forest near Hogwarts.”

“Did you go there often?” she asked.

“No, not really,” he adjusted his grip, “there was really only the one time…” he trailed off half lost in the memory.

“Well?” Lyra prompted.

“I… I had followed my brother, because… well, I actually don’t remember the exact reason, I was mad at him for something I think. It doesn’t matter anyway. But, I followed him, which really was a mistake because I got lost.”

“Really?” Lyar cackled.

“Really. I was fifteen and far more stupid than I gave myself credit for.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“My ego was so big it could have been a whole other person.”

“Like Lord Artrun.” The man had tried to get Regulus locked up. If Lyra ever saw his smug face again, she was going to bite it off.

“Ugh, you’re right” Regulus seemed genuinely disgusted by the thought, “I hate that you’re right.”

“How did you get out of the forest?” Lyra asked to distract him.

“One of my brother’s friends found me, was a smug bastard about it too,” Regulus grumbled.

“What was he doing in the forest?” 

“The same ridiculous thing as my brother, I imagine. Merlin, he was the worst,” Regulus ranted. “The great James Potter, head boy, star of the Gryffindor quidditch team, shoots rainbows out of his goddamn ass because he’s so amazing!”

“Really? That sounds painful,” Lyra wasn’t aware humans could do that.

“Okay, maybe not that last one, but! But everyone thought he was the best thing ever and- ugh,” Regulus made a noise of disgust. “It was all blatant favouritism, I mean, he wasn’t even a prefect! And he’s made head boy?”

“The injustice,” Lyra agreed, “you said your brother was older than you, right?”

“Two years.”

“Then did you become the head boy?”

“No. Some nitwit from Gryffindor. Even though my grades were better and I had more awards.”

“That’s not fair!” 

“I know right?”

“Whoever was in charge clearly didn’t have a brain.”

Regulus laughed brightly, “Thanks, Lyra.”

“Of course.”

They finally broke through the final leaves and stared out over the tree-tops. The sun was bright and warm, shining over a sea of green as far as Lyra’s eyes could see. A cool breeze ruffled the leaves and made it seem as though the trees themselves were dancing.

“Oh,” Regulus breathed softly, “it’s beautiful.”

It was. 

“Regulus,” Lyra could feel it once again, the calling of the sky. “I’m about to do something reckless.”

“Do it,” there was no reluctance in his voice.

Lyra launched herself out of the tree. For a moment, she was afraid she would fall, falling didn’t scare her, but she didn’t want Regulus to be crushed.

But her fear was for naught. The wind caught under her wings, and as she beat them, she launched herself upwards.

Regulus whooped loudly, and Lyra roared in response. She could feel his delight matching hers, and something finally clicked into place. 

The certainty that this was where they belonged.

She let the air carry her into a tumble, and Regulus laughed loudly. 

“Go faster!” He cried. Lyra dragged her wings close and angled into a dive. What was there to worry about when there was just her and Regulus and the air? 

She thrust her wings out as she neared the tree-tops, swooping over them at the last second. They shuddered in her wake. She beat her wings and rose skyward once more.

“How high do you think we can go?” She shouted to Regulus excitedly.

“I don’t know!” But he wanted to find out just as much as she did. And so they rose, up and up and up, until it was almost impossible to see the individual trees.

Lyra craned her head around, and Regulus grinned up at her. His smile was so bright, and Lyra was sure that no matter what would come, they would be alright. 

She let out another crowing roar of delight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, they find their way back to Murtagh and Thorn who were very worried, and they all have breakfast.
> 
> The next chapter should be out sooner. Thank you for reading :D


	6. Month six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murtagh and Murtagh's opinions.

Murtagh is running. 

He’s chasing a shadowy figure through stone halls. A shadowy figure that has stolen his sword. Fear is shooting through his veins like lightning. The figure whirls around to face Murtagh, an inhuman smile slashing across their face. 

Murtagh does not know this man. But he is familiar in some nightmarish sense. 

“Is this the best you can do boy?” He taunts with Murtagh’s voice. His eyes glow with poisonous light.

Far behind him, Murtagh hears someone calling his name.

***

“Murtagh!” 

Thorn’s call rang through the early morning haze.

Murtagh groaned in response. “Five more minutes,” he begged Thorn through their bond.

“Well, alright, but don’t complain to me when you give yourself a headache.”

Thorn’s consciousness faded, and Murtagh dragged his pillow over his head. He didn’t want to get up, but he also knew that sleep wouldn’t come back to him. That last nightmare had made sure of that. He was so very done with cryptic prophetic dreams. 

This one seemed far more like a nightmare. While Murtagh wanted to pretend that it was just that, the dream had repeated itself with enough specificity that he was sure it meant something. 

How wonderful.

Murtagh probably would have brooded for another half hour, but a knock on his door interrupted him.

Grumbling under his breath, he dragged himself out of his beg and yanked the door open.

Regulus smiled softly at him, and Murtagh’s bad mood lessened somewhat.

“Are you well?”

“Yeah, just nightmares.”

Regulus frowned, “again?”

“Again.” It was the second time this month, and the seventh since the dream had begun.

“Are you going to tell Queen Arya?” Regulus asked.

Murtagh shrugged. He knew Arya would be mad if he didn’t tell her soon, but he really didn’t want to fend off her attempts to investigate the source of the dreams. Again.

“Not yet.”

Regulus nodded, “will you think about it?”

Murtagh didn’t want to. “Yeah.” He studied Regulus. The other man was dressed in the elvish clothing he had been given, but he still wore his cloak over them. Murtagh wasn’t sure if it was because the cloak was significant or if Regulus just liked having all the pockets. 

“Will you spar with me today?”

Murtagh raised an eyebrow, “still smarting from the beating Sionra gave you yesterday?”

Regulus gave a noncommittal hum. “I simply believe it would be... beneficial to practice more.”

Murtagh snorted, “Sure, whatever soothes your ego, let me get changed, and we’ll go.”

“You aren’t going to eat?”

“No. Later.” The nightmares always stole Murtagh’s appetite. 

***

“Keep your sword up!” Murtagh ordered. 

He moved through another series of blows and then managed to spend Regulus’ sword flying from his grip.

“Regulus, you have to hold onto your sword,” Murtagh huffed, “if you’re in a real battle and you let go, you are going to die.”

“Maybe, but at least my fingers won’t be crushed.”

Murtagh sighed, raised a finger and opened his mouth to reply, then he sighed again, “go get your sword, we’re rerunning this maneuver until it’s drilled into your skull.”

Regulus shrugged and turned. He’d gained some muscle mass since they’d begun to train several months ago. It wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t hang onto his damn sword though.

A stupid idea came to mind. 

He smacked Regulus across his back with the flat of his blade.

Regulus jerked up with an affronted look on his face, and Murtagh couldn’t hold in his snickers. “This is why you need to hold onto your blade,” he laughed.

Regulus glared at him, not nearly as amused, and raised his sword again.

They went through another series of maneuvers, and once again, when Murtagh brought down his sword particularly hard, Regulus dropped his sword. 

“C’mon Regulus you’ve-whoa!” he cut off when Regulus launched himself at Murtagh. He had to drop his own sword to catch the other man, and the force of the move sent them both tumbling into the dirt.

“Who’s dropping their sword now!” Regulus crowed above Murtagh. His triumphant grin was wiped off his face however when Murtagh flipped them easily.

“Still you.” Murtagh teased as he flopped his weight onto Regulus’ back.

“Get off you oaf!” Regulus yelled.

“But, however will you learn if I do that?” Murtagh asked in mock concern.

Regulus growled and attempted to free one of his arms. Murtagh started chuckling so hard at his pathetic attempts that he ended up dropping his head and leaning his forehead between Regulus’ shoulder blades. He smelt of sweat, but also of paper and something else Murtagh could quite identify. It was very pleasant though.

Beneath him, Regulus went still.

Face flaming, Murtagh jerked up, “Regulus?”

Regulus shoved him, and startled, Murtagh tumbled backwards.

“You let your guard down!” Regulus’s face was flushed too.

Murtagh coughed in an attempt to regain control of his spiralling thoughts. “I did. Good job taking advantage of an opening,” he complimented.

Regulus smiled and shrugged, “I doubt it would work in a real fight.”

“It would.”

“What?”

“Fighting dirty. Some people I’ve met think it’s dishonorable, but I think anything’s fair in a life or death fight.”

“Oh.”

They lay in the dirt. Murtagh squinted up at the sky through the trees. “You’re so antsy today,” he idly observed, “what’s going on.”

“Queen Arya said that Lyra’s saddle would be done today,” Regulus explained, “when we get it we can finally go flying together.” 

Murtagh had missed their first flight a month or so ago. The pair had run off into the woods in the middle of a heated argument. He had been worried sick the entire night he and Thorn had been searching. 

“That is exciting.”

“Mm-hm.”

“I can’t wait to get up into the air again,” Regulus gazed up into the sky, “there’s no better place in the world.

“Is that why you were so excited you nearly fell of Thorn we were going to Illrea?” Murtagh had nearly had a heart attack, several really, on that trip.

“I wasn’t going to fall.”

Murtagh raised an eyebrow at Regulus, “oh no? Have you been riding dragons your whole life, and I never knew?”

“No, no, but when I was at school we had a game called quidditch-”

“Quit ditch,” Murtagh repeated. 

Regulus rolled his eyes, “quidditch, and we would fly on… uh… what’s the word for the uh-” he made a sweeping gesture.

“Wind?”

“No, it’s for cleaning, it’s long-”

“Broom?”

“Yes!” Regulus said something in his language, “we would fly on brooms, and there were teams, my team was the best, and whoever got the most points was the winner -” he launched into a more detailed description of the game. Murtagh’s focus was drawn to the way his face seemed to light up. He didn’t think he had ever seen Regulus so animated before. 

“-hit the players out of the air with-,”

“Wait, wait, what?” Murtagh asked, hoping he had misheard Regulus.

“Hm? The beaters try to hit the players out of the air with bludgers?” Regulus looked at him curiously.

“That sound’s dangerous,” Murtagh said, “why would you play a game like that?”

Regulus gave him an amused look, “it’s not that dangerous, once I got hit and fell and broke my arm and two of my ribs,” he gestured to himself, “I’m fine aren’t I?”

“Yes? but still,” Murtagh spluttered, “where were the adults when this was going on?”

“Well -” Regulus said something in English, a title Murtagh assumed, and a name, “did give-” another name, “ah- what do you call it,” he waved a hand for a moment, “oh! A fowl!”

“A what?” This was the strangest game Murtagh had ever heard of.

“No, no, a- ugh,” Regulus scowled, “a penalty, I- yes, is that the word?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, so he got a penalty, but it didn’t matter because we won in the end.”

“Huh.” The game still sounded bizarre to Murtagh, but he felt like telling Regulus that would wipe away the excited energy around him.

“Do you have anything like that?”

“Hm? Like what?”

“Games, or … ugh,” Regulus waved his hands as he searched for the word “sports?”

“Oh,” Murtagh felt like there were but, “maybe, I never really played any.”

“Really, not even when you were young?”

“Naw, other kids didn’t want to play with me.”

“Oh, that’s sad.”

“Gee, thanks,” Murtagh laughed.

“Not like that!” Regulus amended, “just- it’s sad they didn’t want to play with you. Kids are mean.” he added sheepishly.

“Sure,” Murtagh snickered.

“Murtagh,” Thorn called through their bond. “The last measurements for Lyra’s saddle are done.”

Murtagh turned to see Regulus rising to his feet, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Well,” Murtagh asked in amusement when Regulus turned to him, “what are you waiting for?”

Regulus beamed at him and took off down the path. 

Murtagh let out a huffing laugh and followed at a more sedated pace. Exhaustion was weighing him down now that he was no longer focusing on a task. 

“Are you alright?” Thorn asked, sensing his fatigue.

“Fine. Tired,” Murtagh amended at Thorn’s judgmental silence, “I’ll be fine.”

They came into the clearing where the dragons were standing, and Murtagh tensed when he saw Sionra amongst the group gathered there.

“Oh great,” he complained to Thorn, “why’s she here?”

“I don’t know, something about a tradition to see the new riders’ first flight?” Thorn answered.

“Ugh. It’s not even their first flight, though.”

“Be civil.” Thorn chided.

“Be civil,” Murtagh repeated sarcastically back through their bond. “I’ll have you know she starts it.”

“Only because you goad her.”

“I do not, my very presence sets her off, I don’t do anything.”

“You are ridiculous,” Thorn retorted, “I am not having this argument again.”

Murtagh rolled his eyes and went back to watching as Arya showed Regulus how to attach Lyra’s saddle. It was rather amusing because Regulus was clearly trying his best not to mess up Arya’s instructions, but he clearly didn’t understand all of the precise jargon she was using, leading to several backtracks. Eventually, however, the saddle was attached to Lyra’s satisfaction. Regulus clambered onto her back, and Arya explained how to tie the leg straps to him.

Murtagh watched as Lyra launched herself into the air with a jubilant roar. Vornongr and Hurana, with Sionra and Tazuz on their backs, followed suit. 

Thorn looked down at Murtagh, “shall we join them?”

“Yeah. We can’t let them have all the fun.”

***

“I would speak with you,” Arya said. 

Murtagh looked up from the book he was holding and shrugged, “about what?”

He was settled at a table in the corner of one of the libraries. Farther away, Regulus, Sionra, and Tazuz were discussing something quietly. The dragons had left to hunt an hour ago, and when Regulus had asked Murtagh if he wanted to come with him, Murtagh had agreed. To his utter annoyance, Sionra and Tazuz had decided to tag along.

“Do you know about the cross-kingdom games?” Arya asked as she took the seat across from him.

“Games? I don’t believe I have.” One of the downsides to having spent so many years in the deep forests; Murtagh was horribly out of the loop from society. 

“I thought not.” Arya’s tone grated on Murtagh’s nerves.

“Is there a reason your asking?” He asked, “I assume we’re going to be involved somehow. Unless you’re going to tell me to butt out?”

Arya snorted. “Unfortunately, the dragon riders are expected to make an appearance. This includes Regulus and Lyra, and I know now that where they go, you and Thorn are quick to follow.”

“So, you’re telling me to behave myself then?” Murtagh accused. 

“I am informing you so you can work out whatever emotions you need to now instead of in the middle of a very delicate political situation,” Arya replied cooly.

“What makes you think I’ll need to ‘work something out’ as you put it?” Murtagh asked half curious as to what her answer would be, and half annoyed that she thought him so volatile.

“The games were started by your brother.”

Murtagh let out a humorless chuckle, “Oh. That explains it then.” 

“The games are being held in Farthen Dûr.”

“Even better,” This was going to be a shit show. “Remind me why you’re letting me come again?”

“I would never presume to tell you what to do,” Arya replied primly, “and you would not listen to me even if I did.” She gave him a judgmental look.

Murtagh shrugged again. “I suppose not. So when are these games happening?”

“In four months, but we will be departing in three,” Arya informed him.

“Huh. Have you told the others?” 

“They are aware. We have been to every competition since they were chosen.” 

“Is Eragon going to be there?”

“It is unlikely, there is always something that keeps him away.”

“Really? I would have thought he’d be there. You know, since it was his idea.” That was something Murtagh had been wondering about. Even if Eragon had decided to place the new headquarters of the dragon riders outside of Alegaësia, it shouldn’t have prevented him from sticking his nose into matters.

“Apparently, someone informed him that he would never return to Alegaësia, and so far that prediction has proven correct.”

“What the fuck?” Murtagh cringed internally, he had been trying to be more civil with Arya, but the words had just slipped out.

“Indeed.”

“Forgive my language, but that sounds like a load of bullshit.”

Arya shrugged. They sat in silence a moment. 

“So these games,” Murtagh began eventually, “what happens?”

“There are a variety of competitions. Not all of them are combat-based. Each of the kingdoms sends competitors, and the games change locations every time to promote fairness.”

“And this year they’re in Farthen Dûr.”

“King Orik insisted.”

“These games sound like a terrible idea. What happens why the losers don’t accept their defeats with grace?”

“That hasn’t been a problem so far,” The way Arya said that Murtagh figured sore losers were dealt with pretty harshly.

“Still, what stops the rulers from taking measures to ensure their team wins?”

“I do.” The unemotional way she stated that made Murtagh laugh again. 

“Fair enough.” A thought occurred to him, “why tell me all this, surely you don’t think I’m so fragile that the mere mention of Eragon will send me into fits?”

Arya studied him. Murtagh lifted his chin and matched her stare.

“I have decided that I will have better results if I treat you like an ally rather than a problem to be managed.”

“And what results are you looking for?”

“You are an astute man, surely you have noticed that the political climate is delicate?”

“I have.”

“Ajihad and his counterparts; Shonha, the queen of Surda, and Kazruk the new Urgal chieftain are all too young to understand the devastation war causes. The Aesrui are a complete unknown. And Orik grows more uncooperative by the year.”

“You think I’m going to set them off.” It wasn’t a question.

“You already have,” Murtagh opened his mouth to respond, but Arya raised a hand, “Peace Murtagh. It’s not an accusation.”

“Well, what do you want me to do? You were right, where Regulus goes, I go.”

Arya nodded, “The riders need to be a strong front. We cannot be that if I have to constantly worry about your actions.”

Murtagh gave her an incredulous look, Arya mirrored his expression.

“No more petty fights Murtagh.”

Murtagh let out a frustrated huff. He glanced over to where Regulus was showing Tazuz something in one of the many books surrounding the three of them.

“Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, another story completed! I hope everyone is staying safe and well.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has made it this far, just knowing that people actually read this is a massive deal to me. 
> 
> Part four of the series is called Shur'tugal and the dead man. The plan is to actually write it all and then upload either on an actual schedule or as a complete work. My goal is to finish part for by the summer, but who knows. 
> 
> If you feel so inclined, drop me a comment, I would love to know what people think :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, if you feel so inclined, tell me what you think of the fic so far. I'm open to constructive criticism :)


End file.
